


More than Cold Storage of Human Beings

by morosophe



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5233652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morosophe/pseuds/morosophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.  For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up.  Again, if two lie together, they are warm; but <b>how can one be warm alone</b>?  And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him. A threefold cord is not quickly broken.</p><p>--Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 (RSVCE), emphasis added</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than Cold Storage of Human Beings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hibou_Gris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibou_Gris/gifts).



> "I'd love a hurt/comfort fic with a hypothermic Matt. I'm equally happy with a gen fic with Foggy and Karen helping him, or a pairing fic with either Matt/Foggy or Matt/Claire. Thank you!"
> 
> You're welcome! I definitely got hypothermic Matt and gen fic with Foggy and Karen. I even tried for Matt/Claire, although you can see what happened with that. I certainly hope this reads as hurt/comfort, and that you don't mind the Marci/Foggy that snuck its way in there.
> 
> ...or that it was also partially inspired by another prompt at the kinkmeme.
> 
> Fair warning: I am not a medical professional. I pretty much camped out at medicinenet.com and the Mayo Clinic and NHS websites for a while, but they can only do so much. They kept saying he should go to the hospital, and no way was Matt going to go for a few shivers when the events of the show weren't enough to get him there.

### Since we've no place to go

The last time he was this cold, Matt thought vaguely, he had just emerged, dripping, from the Hudson, where he had thrown himself to escape from Fisk. He remembered being more worried about the gaping wound in his abdomen than the body temperature that was helping to numb it, although his impressions of the trip back home had been overwritten by the way he had ended up torn to shreds by Foggy's anger and chilled to the bone by his disappointment.

Now he was doing his best not to repeat his bad decisions. He hated that he was keeping another secret and knew that continuing to do so would do nothing good for their friendship if it went on too long. On the other hand, what good would it do Foggy to know about his most recent problems? After all, Foggy's landlord had been so much worse than Matt's, evicting him without notice or just cause. Foggy had just come back to his apartment to find that it was no longer his apartment. Matt's own recent housing issues weren't nearly as bad, and there was no need to worry Foggy until there was something he could do to help. He was trying to get there; he'd already made an appointment with the firm that was representing Foggy, and was sure that his partner would gladly go with him. If there was a chance they could prove collusion...

The brief he was typing up to detail how his landlord was violating the "covenant of quiet enjoyment" seemed to be taking an inordinately long time to finish, though, even taking into account the way his body kept shivering every time he tried to concentrate on his work rather than his control. Glad as he was that he'd gotten his Daredevil outfit secreted away the first time it was clear his landlord didn't consider his consent necessary prior to sending strangers into his apartment, this evening he was equally glad that he'd finally been able to change back into something a little warmer. He'd had a fruitful evening, even if it had consisted more of telling Father Lantom where to go to find people in need of shelter for the night than in his usual activities, and was still doing productive work, but he couldn't wait to get back home and--

Matt shook his head. That was the problem, right there. He needed to get back on track if he ever wanted to get his home back instead of spending another night in a room that smelled of all the people who had stayed there before him, on sheets that felt like steel wool, resolutely ignoring the activities of the guests around him. Even an early shift as Daredevil had been better than that this morning. He doubted it would be any more agreeable now, no matter how tired he was. _Focus, Matt,_ he thought, and ignored his shivers. Soon he would be done.

### The lights are turned way down low

Karen disliked being at the office when no one else was there. True, it had been her refuge for a short period of time, but the safety and solace she had clung to after several of the worst moments of her life had eventually been drowned out by the silences. She was still troubled by the aftershocks months after her world had fallen apart. The only times she was alone in the office now, it was because both partners were needed elsewhere to do their jobs, and Karen could reassure herself that they would return, eager to share with her about their time away and always, always united.

This evening was different. After the office's ancient heating system had proven insufficient for the unusually cold weather, Foggy had declared an early start to Christmas break for the office. "We don't have much to do right now, anyhow," he had pointed out. "In fact, you might have a case against us if we made you sit here doing nothing. That's cruel and unusual punishment. You could use _Laaman v. Helgemoe_ for precedent."

"'Enforced idleness is a numbing violence against the spirit,'" Matt had quoted blithely from his office. Clearly, both partners were in agreement.

So, with a few last goodbyes and seasonal wishes, Karen had left. She had a little stocking up to do, anyhow; they were predicting snow as ferocious in its intensity as the cold snap before it, and she didn't want to get caught out. She was sure she would see both Foggy and Matt again before Christmas anyhow. It's not like either of them had much of a life outside of Nelson and Murdock.

Now Karen realized that she shouldn't have been in such a hurry to go. She'd forgotten and left her only good charger at her desk, and only realized it when she was awakened by her phone chirping its low battery announcement. Since there was no way she was going to weather the blizzard they were still predicting without her phone, she reluctantly headed back. It was very late to be up and around, and Karen clutched her pepper spray for her entire trip to the office. So far, though, Karen hadn't seen a soul around, except for the drivers of the trucks spewing salt all over. She hoped that the crackheads were all safe in their little dens. Nobody deserved the kind of deaths that the news had been reporting lately among the homeless.

The silence on the street only left Karen more time to dread her destination. True, the overworked heating system would ensure that the temperature at the office was at least above the single digits, but Karen knew that she would be reminded of the nights she had spent there alone, desperate as much to escape the temptation of a half-drunk bottle in her apartment as to find evidence against Fisk. "I'm only there to get my charger," she reminded herself aloud, regretting it when it earned here a mouthful of very cold air. She promptly buried her face in her scarf. Sure, it didn't smell all that great, since she hadn't wanted to shell out the extra money for dry-cleaning, but the softness and warmth of the cashmere more than made up for the smell.

Karen kept her face buried in her scarf even as her mittens fumbled with the keys and the doorknob to the building. It wasn't much better inside; when she realized that she could see her breath, she dived right back down into her scarf. _Guess I was wrong about it being warmer in here than out there_ , she thought bemusedly as she hiked up the stairs to the offices of Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law. She was in such a hurry to get her charger and escape the last lingering echoes of one of the worst times in her life that she didn't even bother to turn on the lights, an impulse she regretted when she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Somebody—or some _thing_ —was in Matt's office.

### But as long as you love me so

“Wait, wait, wait,” Foggy said to his phone. He hated how slow he was to catch up when he was awakened unexpectedly. Fortunately, he had fallen asleep on the couch, so he wasn't disturbing Marci's hard-earned rest. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep at all; it was barely ten the last time he'd looked, but Marci's strategy for “making killing it at the office look effortless” meant that she was usually in bed early, and he was beginning to synchronize with her schedule.

His confusion at this phone call was only partially explained by the fact that it had knocked him out of a sound slumber, however. The fact that Karen had called from Matt's phone had a little more to do with it. “Slow down, Karen,” Foggy instructed. Then his brain finally processed some of what he had heard and his own voice both sped up and rose to a higher pitch: “Wait, did you say you _shot Matt with pepper spray_?”

“No, no, only almost,” Karen reassured him. “He freaked me out, but I realized it was him before I managed to press the trigger.”

“Wait, where _are_ you?” Foggy asked. And had Karen run across Matt as Daredevil? Because that might almost make sense...

“We're at the office,” Karen told Foggy. Okay, so this was still bizarre. It did mean that he could turn his speaker on and get dressed, though; there shouldn't be anything he would worry about Marci overhearing. “I came back to get the charger for my phone, and Matt was here working on something, but none of the lights were on and I wasn't expecting it. And then I saw movement, and realized just in time that it was Matt. I don't know why he's here, or what he was doing, besides shivering himself to death. It's _cold_ here, Foggy—I think the heating system is just _gone_ , now. And Matt isn't very coherent, but he did manage to pull out his phone, so I called you, because, y'know, something wrong with Matt, call Foggy. That's about as far as my thinking went.” Her voice had almost sped up to where it had started, at the beginning of her call.

“Okay, so what's Matt doing now?”

“Trying to fight off my coat, mostly,” Karen said. “He's _cold_ , Foggy. And he's, like, mumbling. Should I call the hospital? Cause I think he might have hypothermia, but I _know_ you guys don't have terribly good insurance coverage. I handle all that paperwork, remember?”

“I'll call a nurse we--I know,” Foggy responded. Good thing he had grabbed Claire's number, just in case. “You see if you can get Matt moving, take him home. I'll be there soon to help.” As he exited Marci's apartment building, he took a moment from scrolling down his contact list for Claire's name to loathe Midtown. Seriously, it was going to take forever to meet up with the rest of Nelson and Murdock, when they _needed him_. As great as Marci was, she was just not enough to make up for everything else being east of Eighth Avenue entailed.

### But if you'll really hold me tight

It took Claire a little while to navigate the slightly dirty hall of the apartment building. Somehow, she had trouble reconciling this building with Matt. He was such a creature of extremes: It was either penthouse or dumpster, for him. Collapsed lung or no-holds-barred fighting. Not this fairly normal apartment building, rather similar to the one she lived in herself, lacking elegance, but also junkies. Still, this was the address she'd been given.

Everything Matt's friend had told her over the phone had made her certain that this was a mild case of hypothermia, that if they obeyed her instructions he should be fine. That didn't help with the feeling that she needed to check up on him in person. Claire finally found the right apartment number and knocked at the door.

“Hey, Claire,” the vaguely familiar man with the very familiar voice said. She had been listening to that voice for a while tonight, after all, frantic with worry as it had been, as she had finished off the last bits of her double shift.

Behind him, a female voice seemed to be addressing Matt with the exact combination of frustration and authority that he had always responded to so well. Claire felt an irrational pang of jealousy. “No, Matt, pay attention to me; Foggy's got the door, Matt, and I need you to _hear this_. Matt, the first day I met you, you _offered up your home_ to keep me safe,” the voice insisted. “What made you think I wouldn't be overjoyed to return the favor?”

Matt didn't have an immediate answer, and as Claire approached, she could see that he was lying on a sleeping bag on the ground. The woman who had been speaking to him—something about her rang a bell, though Claire couldn't quite recall where she would have seen her before—was curled up against him, sharing a warm-looking comforter. As Claire bent down to check on him, she noticed the rice pack, presumably warmed in the microwave, that was laying on top of the fleece afghan wrapped around Matt's middle. And although the scarf was vaguely reminiscent of his black mask in how it was wrapped around his head, the rest of his clothes were neither the black outfit she was so used to seeing, nor the red one she'd read about in the papers. Instead, he wore pieces of the kind of suit she'd only caught quick glimpses of. Sometimes she forgot that he was actually a lawyer.

“'Snot the same,” Matt finally answered. “I wasn't, wasn't in any _danger_.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Claire interjected. She was pleased, however, to note that he was capable of following the conversation, and even making contributions to it, no matter how dubious his logic might be. “Unfortunately,” she told the person who was trying to argue some sense into her wayward friend, “that requires a little privacy for my patient.”

“Really?” Matt whined. “But I like having Karen here. She gives great hugs.”

“Aw, Matt,” Karen cooed. “Just for that, you get another hug. And another reminder,” she said as she suited action to words, “You. Are. Not. Alone. You've got me. You've got Foggy. We're not going anywhere.”

 _Ouch_ , was all Claire could think, remembering her own conversation with the man on this topic. Still, “You've also got a rectal thermometer probe in your near future,” Claire pointed out. “Only way to get your core temperature, make sure you really are all right.”

“...except to the kitchen, to get you another warm drink,” Karen finished. She gave Matt a final squeeze and left.

By the time Claire had finished her check-up—despite Matt's still low temperature, he seemed well on the way to recovery—Foggy and Karen had prepared a tray with drinks for all four of them. _Mmm. Freshly made eggnog._ Without _the alcohol_ , Claire was pleased to note.

As Foggy carefully propped Matt up on his shoulder to drink his own drink, moving the blanket so his friend would remain covered, he spoke to Claire. “I'm still mad at you,” Foggy informed her. Uh-oh. “You said that we didn't actually have to strip down and cuddle Matt back to warmth, since his clothes weren't wet and he and Karen were almost to her apartment anyhow. You stopped the first Nelson and Murdock orgy in its tracks, Claire! Killjoy.”

“Wait, the first _what_?” protested Karen, at the same time Matt said, “Foggy. Never happening.”

“Aw, man. We don't get a softball team, we don't get an orgy. What in the world can we do to promote office morale, then?”

“I'm sure you'll come up with something, Foggy,” Matt said, and the fond indulgence in his voice made Claire realize: She was an outsider here. This Matt, the man who had good friends and a softly spoken voice, who wore an actual suit and smiled fondly? She'd never met him. She didn't know him. She'd assumed that she'd met the _real_ Matt, the one that came out in adversity, and that the version she'd seen on television and in the newspaper, helping to put the final nails into the coffin of Fisk's case, was the convenient Bruce Wayne cover. Now she wasn't so sure. He was more attractive than ever, somehow, snuggled up in his ridiculous cocoon and braced by friends on either side. But it was too late for her, for them.

Besides, it was time for her to head home. Outside, it was starting to snow.

### All the way home, I'll be warm

Foggy chose blanket forts. And warned that this might indeed become a Nelson and Murdock tradition. “Though hopefully without the lead-up,” he added. “Hear that, Murdock? Next time you speak up sooner and let us know you're _homeless_.”

“Only temporarily! And I just... didn't want to bother you. Not when you had it so much worse off.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Karen asked, although her indignation didn't move her head off Matt's shoulder. She hadn't let him up for more than to change clothes and use the bathroom since Claire had left. At least she had finally taken back her scarf. It had had a nice texture and thickness, but had smelled so overwhelmingly of Karen that it was distracting. “I should not have learned about this by _noticing the printer tray was full_ , Matt. If I hadn't caught that, I hate to think how much longer it would have taken to get you somewhere warm and dry, and _not_ coated in toxic pesticides.”

“What about Marci?” he asked, hoping to get off this subject. “Wasn't there something you were supposed to do with her?” Foggy, busy a few feet away—was he stringing Christmas lights on the inside of their fort?—was clearly planning on sticking around Karen's apartment indefinitely.

“Yeah, her company Christmas party is tonight. If it's still happening, with all this snow,” Foggy said dismissively. “I spoke to her about it when I raced the storm back to pick up my stuff. She was ambivalent about bringing me, anyway; she doesn't really want any association with the guys who brought down the client her old firm so infamously represented, in case people start wondering exactly how that happened.”

“Aw, Foggy, I'm sorry,” Matt said. He knew that Foggy was a man of bone-deep loyalty: Hadn't he thrown his lot in with Hell's Kitchen, with Matt himself, without looking back? For more than the occasional bagel, that is. The reason his law school relationship with Marci had been so volatile was because Foggy just wasn't made for sex without commitment, no matter what he told himself. This must be hurting him.

“Naw, it's fine,” he told Matt. “Marci has actually been pretty patient putting me up while all this is going on, plus she stuck her neck out enough finding the absolute best attorneys for us—well, for me, she didn't know you'd need them, too. Funny how none of us knew that, despite the fact that your landlord has been doing this bullshit for weeks, Matt.” Yes, yes, he got it, he should have let Foggy and Karen know the first time he came home to find all of his possessions strewn about in the wake of an “inspection” for which his notice had suspiciously been missing. Or at least the second. “And she's going to _introduce me to her parents_ on Thursday, Matt.”

“Wow, Foggy. Congratulations.” Matt wasn't about to minimize the importance of that relationship milestone, not when it came from the self-proclaimed Ice Queen of Columbia. Hey, if she kept this up, he might even end up liking her.

“This is a good thing?” Karen muttered. “Well, whether or not you make it to your girlfriend's, I'm glad you apparently decided to attend the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party. Despite its relocation to my apartment.”

“I'm sorry, Ka-” Matt started, only to be interrupted.

“Don't you dare apologize for being here, Matthew Murdock. I was trying to head toward a joke about the office's suitability for corporate parties, not making an actual complaint.”

“I dunno, maybe we could cover that water stain by the door with mistletoe. Make it a jolly water stain, instead.”

“Exactly,” Karen raised her head to nod at Foggy, who had come back to his spot on Matt's other side. “I just nodded,” she let Matt know. “Firmly. We could claim that the mold in the bathroom is in honor of the season,” she went on, “and place the punch bowl very carefully, to hide the marks on the conference table. Or maybe we should save that for the New Years' party—the property management company says that the heating system should definitely be fixed by then.”

“Meanwhile,” Foggy went on, “you get Employee of the Year for your willingness to put up your bosses.”

“No, no,” Karen protested, “just having you guys here is like exorcising spirits, seriously.” Then she snorted. “Both the ghost kind and the vodka. Wow, that was a bad pun. Foggy, is your sense of humor _contagious_? Okay, now I'm regretting letting you stay. Matt's always welcome, but you need to put on a face mask—I don't want to catch anything from you.”

“And cover up these fine features? Naw, if anything, Matt's the one that needs a mask. If only to save the world from his brooding countenance.” Foggy could barely get the words out, he was giggling so hard, and soon all three had dissolved into laughter. Their exhaustion was finally catching up with them, it seemed.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, not deterred at all by the sun that was finally rising. Inside, wrapped in the arms of some of his favorite people in the world, Matt wasn't complaining. He was pretty sure he was past any danger from hypothermia, but suspected that Foggy and Karen were just using it as an excuse for a snuggle session, with him at the center. That thought warmed him all the way down to his toes.

**Author's Note:**

> Title references, you guessed it, Judge Bownes' opinion in _Laaman v. Helgemoe_. Subtitles come from "Let It Snow."
> 
> I wanted Matt to have moderate-to-mild hypothermia, because the hospital would have made for a much less fun fic. I chose this method of getting hypothermia (extended exposure to the cold with inadequate protection instead of, say, a dip into the Hudson,) to a.) get a little variety in, because the version where Matt gets hypothermia from a dip into the Hudson has already been written several times; b.) somewhat answer the [homelessness prompt](https://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/5006.html?thread=10100366) at the kinkmeme, which did help to inspire this alternative; and c.) highlight Matt's complete and utter failure at self-care.


End file.
